The State Between Awake and Dreaming and Remembering

It’s another one of those solitude soaked nights again; where my pillow becomes heavy with pain like pollen, floating from space to space and joint to joint–aimlessly the night buzzes in the stillness.

Softly, I remove the Summer-light lavender comforter from my burdened body, thinking (but really praying) that the two pounds will loosen the weight of the day, the days I’ve spent carrying around such a burden of illness in my gypsy bones.

They are always stunned, confused. I have always been a fairy with clipped wings. Hour-by-hour tracing steps to see how I could’ve done something better, leaving trails of pixie dust in my wake, across the eyes of my believers, but for some reason never enough for me.

I should’ve married Peter Pan, sewn my glitter into the threads of his shadow while we forever traveled to and from our Neverland, never landing on times past or reverie. But, I spent too much time on Captain Hook with his clock–my inner child–counting down the wasted away years he planned to steal.

He played the parts of savior and captor together all too well, the Captain. Smiling his crocodile smile through waters deep, and had jaws of death and jagged life just the same.

But around here, there is no luxury of retrospection, only present tense or future flux. It seems as though space remains incomprehensible to many, but when all you have is ‘the state between’, you tend to notice the nuisance of change.

I wish five years ago before my RA diagnosis, I would have been more aware of my ‘state between’–would have recognized the flutter of my fairy wings and the pulsing of my gypsy heart. In previous years I would spend too much time pondering the could have beens, would haves, should haves if I only might haves!

These days, even during nights like these while I’m stuck in the ‘state between’ and hot tempestuous pain, I sit in the present, stay thankful for tomorrow, and allow my gypsy heart to perambulate without concern.

As pixie dust slowly begins to soften my steps, my journey–I remember the song of my heart– my purpose of channeling pain into purpose into passion. Then, sharing my passion with you 💜

Poetry Book Review of the Week-Love Through the Poet’s Eyes

https://i0.wp.com/i43.tower.com/images/mm101693576/last-love-poems-paul-eluard-paperback-cover-art.jpghttps://i0.wp.com/images.swap.com/images/Books/77/9780060752477.jpg

I have heard the name Mark Doty spoken in different poetry circles at various events and I have also read a select amount of poems by Doty as well so I figured that I would further my experience of his poetry by reading a collection of is. Though I did not know very much about his life, Doty’s poem “The Embrace” in his collection of selected poems Fire to Fire immersed me into his world with such passion and artistry, I could not put the work down and had to write about it.

This same effect goes for Paul Eluard; although I have read much less of his work than Doty, I knew that Eluard was a poet of love and that in itself drew me towards his collection of poetry Last Love Poems. Eluard’s poetry has a way of consuming you with imagery and accessible detail about his lover and at times gives you a glimpse into his own heart. His poem “Absence”, like Doty’s “The Embrace” is very much about love, but about loss as well.

As I stated before, when I chose Doty’s work, I did not know anything about his life; I did not know that he was a homosexual and that his lover was diagnosed with AIDS and died rather young. I am glad that I decided to read his work before I knew any background because it allowed me to remove myself from any type of bias or preconceptions. I loved the sensitive moments of this piece, the ease at which he flowed through line-by-line and stanza-by-stanza, and also how we never get lost in either the emotion or the trail of events.

When I came across the information about his life, I turned my attention back to his poem “The Embrace”. The raw emotion alone truly resonated with me, as it is the first thing that I look for when reading a poem:

You weren’t well or really ill yet either;
just a little tired, your handsomeness
tinged by grief or anticipation, which brought
to your face a thoughtful, deepening grace. (Doty, 1-4)

Here, Doty has set the story in only four lines. The reader already knows that there is a relationship here, and assumes that it is a romantic one with tender word choices such as “handsomeness” or “tinged” and “grace”. The reader also notices that there is something of great loss in the author’s voice; his loved one is sickly but is still admired.

It is in stanzas three and four that I began to realize the true craft of Mark Doty. Not only was he able to captivate me in the first stanza with powerful language and emotion, I did not even notice how the lines wrapped so eloquently (something that I myself strive for in my formal work, such as the sestina). At first glance, I thought that it might be a sestina because of the six stanzas, but when I realized there were no repeating end words and only four lines to each stanza, I was pleasantly surprised that the stanzas were simply beautiful quatrains:

We seemed to be moving from some old house
where we’d live, boxes everywhere, things
in disarray: that was the story of my dream,
but even asleep I was shocked out of the narrative

by your face, the physical fact of your face:
inches from mine, smooth-shaven, loving, alert.
Why so difficult, remembering the actual look
of you? Without a photograph, without strain? (Doty, 9-16)

In these two stanzas, Doty elongates the lines as they wrap around each other making this narrative poem seem effortless. This way of wrapping the lines is very effective as it allows us to stay immersed in the story without forgetting the plot or the sentiment.

Finally, “The Embrace” illustrates Doty’s overall ability to write narrative poetry. Although this is apparent in the entire piece, the final stanza demonstrates a stanza of completion of both feeling and plot:

Bless you. You came back, so I could see you
once more, plainly, so I could rest against you
without thinking this happiness lessened anything,
without thinking you were alive again. (21-24)

The poem takes a complete full turn and brings the reader from the moments of reminiscing to reality: the lover is gone but still very much alive in the author’s heart and of course memory.

.The second poem that I chose to write about, “Absence” is the epitome of a love poem in my eyes. Much like the previous poem, it opens in a grandiose yet sentimental style that captures the reader’s attention:

I speak to you over cities
I speak to you over plains
my mouth is against your ear
the two sides of the walls face
my voice which acknowledges you.
I speak to you of eternity. (Eluard, 1-6)

“I speak to you over cities/ I speak to you over plains” is almost breathless as Eluard begins his poems. He allows the reader to truly be inside of the poem and experience everything themselves as the account unfolds:

O cities memories of cities
cities draped with our desires
cities early and late
cities strong cities intimate
stripped of all their makers
their thinkers their phantoms (7-12).

The repetition of the word “cities” gathers momentum in the middle of the piece which is needed in order to keep the poem from being a dull list of places that the lovers may have visited or talked about visiting. The language alone is enthralling and takes the written images on the page into the dreamscape that is being unfolded before our eyes. It utilizes ideals that are very common to poems about love such as the feelings of longing and undying hope, but adds different elements as well. There are colors, textures, sounds, and major affectations that make this piece a remarkable love poem:

Landscape ruled by emerald
live living ever-living
the wheat of the sky on our earth
nourishes my voice I dream and cry
I laugh and dream between the flames
between the clusters of sunlight
and over my body your body extends
the layer of its clear mirror (13-20).

You can feel this poem (“ I laugh and dream between the flames/between the cluster of sunlight/and over my body your body extends/the layer of its clear mirror”) and that is what true poetry is about, an experience. Eluard, like Doty, has allowed us to be a part of his heart and its voyage, become a part of his life through words. These two poems are wonderful examples of love poetry, although Doty’s is much more of an emotional narrative while Eluard’s has no concrete storyline but much more abstract emotion that is enhanced by scarce punctuation (which I take very well to), and Eluard’s piece and overall writing is much more traditional in both content and style and Doty’s subject matter and form are much more contemporary. However, they have brilliance in craft certainly in common as well believable emotion. Mark Doty and Paul Eluard showed us that love does not discriminate but is welcome to all walks of life.

*Mark Doty has a blog! Please check it out 🙂
http://markdoty.blogspot.com/

Quickie: Light Verse & Why I Write It

Like I always say, I have plenty of influences. Plenty of these poetic voices you probably have heard of such as Emily Dickinson (I’m sure you could have all guessed her abundant influence on me from the quote alone), Sylvia Plath, etc… But I also gain plenty of influence from light verse writers. You know the type of writers that make you just…see the glass as half full instead of half empty. The kind of writers that put a sarcastic, humorous spin on life-they make you turn that proverbial “frown upside down!” Wendy Cope is one of the main reasons why I write light verse.

That isn’t to say that I didn’t go through my, “Dying is an art, like everything else” phase…I mean what poestess poet hasn’t? It’s a right of passage, really. But there is a silver lining. What is that silver lining you ask? Laughter. Laughter truly is the best medicine. I’m not saying that I go everyday burying my head in the sand, but there is always one moment in everyday (usually countless moments) that makes me laugh, and I write about that moment. I try different takes on different situations. I wanted to try something… (EEK!) I was going to do a spotlight on a particular author (Wendy Cope) but I figured I’d save her work for next time and I wanted to share some of my own pieces with you…light verse of course 🙂

Salt to Pepper
I do not know what I would do
Without your spice of life;
Forever at my side. We a pair
Of balance: I am the taste that
Purses the lips, you the heat,
The flavor that coats within.
There can never be one without
The other; in excess, we draw the
Liquid of life to lips. You are the
Yin to my Yang, the indigestion
To my high blood pressure.

Published in Mezzo Cammin: an online journal of formalist poetry by women

Exchange of Hearts
…but bitter, it has never been so sweet.
I tell them and they just don’t understand
The way I feel for you…you’re mine to keep.

And yes, our kind of love’s no easy feat:
You tend to do things that I cannot stand.
But bitter, it has never been so sweet.

I’ll even take the bad. You lie; I cheat.
It’s not like we have that gold wedding band.
The way I feel for you…you’re mine to keep.

We play the field, and yet our hearts still meet
Same time, same place. We live on love’s command.
But bitter, it has never been so sweet.

I love the taste of heartbreak. It’s so neat,
Tied in a bow and swapped from hand to hand.
They way I feel for you…you’re mine to keep.

Your heart belongs to me: no gift receipt.
I try to work my way through love’s demand
…but bitter, it has never been so sweet.
The way I feel for you…you’re mine to keep.

Poetry Book Review of the Week

View with a Grain of Sand – Wislawa Szymborska

https://i0.wp.com/photo.goodreads.com/books/1166131875l/10203.jpg

I think that one of the greatest things to do on a blog is to find a book (or in this case, a work of poetry) read it and review it! This is going to be a pretty short and succinct review, but I wanted to try out the idea… Here goes!

I just so happened to have read a work entitled, View with a Grain of Sand by Polish poet, Wislawa Szymborska. She has published 16 collections of poetry, was the Goethe Prize winner in 1991, the Herder Prize winner in 1995 and the Nobel Peace Prize winner in 1996.

Szymborska reminds me of the observation and insight of Kay Ryan with the wit and sardonic humor of Wendy Cope; very contemporary in nature and execution. I can see the poems here as actual events in her life very easily: many first person accounts, deep outlooks on life, death, and eternity (philosophical entanglements). I was drawn to her because her insights were humorous but true at the same time and like her title implies that life’s observations should be taken with a grain of “salt”. Her images are very concrete and one can visualize things happening in the poems. The language is believable and accessible to all readers,

“With smiles and kisses, we prefer
to seek accord beneath our star
although we’re different (we concur)
just as two drops of water are.”
(View with a Grain of Sand, Szymborska, page 7).

View with a Grain of Sand contained the most exceptional blend of rhyme, rhythm, meter, iambs, and syllabics. I found that her choice of lyrical content suited all of the pieces that she placed it into. Szymborska, utilized alliteration in her poetry as well to evoke sounds from natural speech and her surroundings such as her poem, “Poetry Reading”,

“In the first row, a sweet old man’s soft snore
he dreams his wife’s alive again.What’s more
she’s making him that tart she used to bake.
Aflame, but carefully—don’t burn his cake!—
we start to read. O Muse”
(View with a Grain of Sand; Szymborska, page 26).

Such wit and humor she has, and I eat up every line.

View with a Grain of Sand.

I can read this collection of poetry over and over again, and I have already started to do just so. The stories and voice are very personal. She writes in a very matter-of-fact way, but because of her sarcasm and humor, everything is highly relatable to the reader. She starts with more observations that are closer to her own life and then branches into the greater story of life. She starts from a tiny seed of personal experiences and it grows into more ideals of life and everything between.

I connect with Szymborska’s writing because her writing feels human. They did not feel contrived by physical formality or meter or rhyme, the pieces were not all contrived from anger and a need to tell a story, but they were simply her observations of life. It is as though she speaks for many writers, including myself, from her poem “Poetry Reading” to her more insightful piece, “The Joy of Writing” which pretty much sums of the sentiments of all the writer of these collections:

“The joy of writing
The power of preserving
Revenge of a mortal hand.”
(View with a Grain of Sand; page 36).

*I personally say it’s a Must Read*